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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SUMMER OF SIN
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Chapter Eight
I was worried about my aunt. We were safely ensconced in her home,
doing normal things, shopping during the day and dancing at night, but
there was a restlessness to her spirit.
I met a guy at one of the clubs. He was 22, in college, and I was only
13. But he liked me, and in the ensuing days he became my boyfriend. He
was visiting me at my auntÕs. WeÕd been necking, wondering if we should
Ôdo itÕ for the first time, when on impulse I broke from our embrace and
hurried upstairs. I told myself I needed to pee. But I didnÕt, really, and
instead of going in to the bathroom I wandered instead into my auntÕs
bedroom.
Rebecca was standing in front of her bedroom mirror. It hung over
her dresser. My eyes widened when I saw what she was doing. It was
evening, she had on a very nice dress, as if to attend her formal party. But
as she stared at herself in the mirror she was buckling a leather dog
collar around her neck!
ÒAuntie,Ó I asked, in a submissively formal voice. She had told me
to knock whenever I wanted to come into her bedroom, in case she had a
guy with her, which made sense, I suppose, except I knew sheÕd been
spurning all the men weÕd been meeting at night when we went dancing.
But I was formal anyway, for I was sneaking in on her, and discovering
secrets sheÕd have preferred to keep to herself.
My aunt froze. Her fingers, buckling the collar, hung poised at her
neck. Gradually her eyes moved along the mirrorÕs image until she spotted
me.
ÒWhat do you want?Ó my aunt asked. Her voice was high, a bit
nervous. ÒWhy did you not knock?Ó
ÒYouÕre not naked or anything,Ó I answered. I wanted to add, Ôand itÕs
only five oÕclock in the afternoon,Õ but I knew that was a dumb answer
because, despite the hour, my boyfriend and I had been making out.
ÒNo, IÕm not naked,Ó my aunt answered.
ÒYouÕre all dressed up,Ó I said. ÒAre you going out without me?Ó
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said firmly. She finished buckling on the dogÕs collar.
ÒWhy canÕt I come?Ó I asked plaintively. My aunt tossed back her
lovely brown hair and looked at me with knowing eyes that only an aunt
who was 19, still a teen like me, could muster. ÒYou may cum all you
like,Ó Rebecca said to me coldly. ÒJust not with me. Not tonight.Ó
ÒWhere are you going?Ó I asked. I fidgeted, standing before her. I
was in a bikini that was wet from the pool, my hair mussed from kissing
my new boyfriend. She was gorgeous, wearing an expensive dress, her hair
all done up in the manner of a beautiful French woman.
ÒTo a party,Ó my aunt replied.
ÒIs it a wicked party?Ó I asked. I trembled as I spoke, knowing I was
intruding much more than I should. But somehow I got the question out,
and there was a childish innocence in my voice when I spoke it that made
it accusing, like a baby asking its mother why she was leaving.
ÒItÕs an adult party,Ó Rebecca said. ÒIÕll be back in a few days.Ó
ÒA few days?Ó I blurted. ÒWhat am I to do?Ó
ÒYouÕre 13,Ó Rebecca said. ÒYou have a very fine boyfriend and I can
guess that you two are already hoping for some privacy.Ó
I felt defeated. Sure, it would be nice to have the house to
ourselves. But I wasnÕt 16. Maybe if I had been, IÕd have simply accepted
that my aunt had to go away for a few days. But at 13, there was still
enough of the little girl in me, the bratty kid sister, to be absolutely
filled up with curiosity about what my aunt was up to. I just had to know!
I walked up to her.
ÒDonÕt get my dress wet!Ó my aunt shrieked, backing abruptly away
from me in my soaked bikini.
ÒI want to go with you,Ó I said. I gazed up at her. I tried my best to
look defiant, like a child demanding a toy, for I knew if she rebuffed me
again IÕd be left to wonder forever where sheÕd gone.
ÒYou could not get ready in time,Ó my aunt said.
ÒOh, I could!Ó I insisted.
ÒWhat shall we do with your boyfriend?Ó my aunt asked.
ÒHeÕll come too,Ó I said. My aunt tried to walk around me. I moved,
so that she almost bumped into me in my wet swimsuit.
ÒAlright!Ó my aunt cried. She was trembling. I could see that she
was quite nervous about where she was going an my rudeness was only
adding to her anxiety. ÒLet me by. IÕll call them to delay the boat by a
half hour. If they will,Ó she said.
ÒA boat? WeÕre going on a boat?Ó I asked.
My aunt drew herself up, her firm breasts bulging out in front of her
and nearly bumping me in my nose.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said. ÒItÕs located on an island. The couple is young,
but quite wealthy. We must travel on their boat to reach their home. They
call it--Ó she paused. She tried to suppress a giggle, but it burst from her
lips, anxiously. ÒThey call their home a pleasure palace. They have a big
pool, and tennis courts, and a jacuzzi and sauna, all on the island, and they
have several invited guests out each month, to enjoy their estate with
them.Ó
ÒIt sounds like a lot of fun,Ó I said.
ÒThen come if you wish,Ó my aunt answered. ÒBut you must bathe,
and look your best. Have your boyfriend use the shower outside, by the
pool. IÕm not letting the two of you share the same bathroom.Ó
ÒI didnÕt ask for us to share the bathroom,Ó I answered. My aunt
smiled.
ÒHurry,Ó Rebecca said. ÒIÕll call and see if I can get the boat
delayed.Ó
I rushed downstairs. My boyfriend was sitting in his wet swimsuit,
on a chair in the kitchen. There was a noticeable bulge in the front of his
Speedos.
ÒTake those off!Ó I said to him.
ÒHuh?Ó he asked. He looked at me with startled eyes, expecting,
perhaps, to be relieved of his suit, but not in such an abrupt manner.
I tossed him a bar of soap that IÕd grabbed from a hallway closet as I
ran downstairs. He tried to catch it, fumbled it. It hit his dick and he
caught it as it bounced off his swimsuit.
ÒGet out of your swimsuit and go out back and take a shower,Ó I told
him. ÒThen put on your clothes. RebeccaÕs going to a party and IÕm going
too, as soon as I take my bath, and youÕre coming.Ó
ÒA party?Ó my boyfriend asked. His name was Brad and I liked to
call him ÔBrad the Rad,Õ but at the moment he was slow, awkward, and
stupid. As he stared at me, holding the bar of soap, I saw the bulge in his
swimsuit get bigger.
I walked up to him. I felt confident and self-assured. IÕd just talked
my way into an adult party, and no boyfriend, even one in college, was
going to make me miss it. I reached out and took hold of the front of his
Speedos. I pulled them open. At the same time I stole the soap from his
hands. IÕd already unwrapped it for him, as I ran downstairs. Now I
dropped the soap down into the front of his swimsuit. It made the bulge
there even bigger.
ÒHey!Ó Brad shouted. He looked down at himself, and at the obscene
lump now in the front of his suit where the soap was competing for space
with his cock.
My aunt walked into the kitchen, lovely in her dress, wearing
jewelled earrings, a bouffant hairdo, and a dog collar around her neck.
ÒDid you give him a bar of soap?Ó my aunt asked me.
ÒYes. ItÕs in his swimsuit,Ó I answered, and pointed, hoping sheÕd
think the giant bulge there was all soap.
My aunt cleared her throat. A twitch of a smile crossed her lips.
ÒI didnÕt know we had such big soap,Ó she said softly.
ÒYou... you want me to take a shower?Ó Brad asked. He rose from the
kitchen chair. His hands groped at the front of his Speedos for, as he
stood up, the soap threatened to pop from the leghole of his suit. It was
too small of a suit to hold both the soap and his penis.
ÒYes, Brad,Ó my aunt said. Her eyes gazed at him. He was nude,
except for his small racing suit. He had broad shoulders and a sculpted
chest. His arms and legs were powerful, and from the protuberance in the
front of his suit I guessed his extra limb was as powerful as the others.
ÒGo wash your body,Ó my aunt said. ÒI know youÕre quite clean already, but
weÕre going to a very special party, and I want you looking your best. You
still have your clothes that you came in?Ó
ÒSure,Ó Brad said. With some difficulty, and a visible blush of
embarrassment, he reached into his swimsuit and pulled out the soap.
ÒGood,Ó my aunt said. He was older than she was but she commanded
him with soft, certain words, as if she were his mother. He was, after
all, my boyfriend, and I was only 13, so I suppose that made her take
charge of him.
ÒDonÕt fool around,Ó I told Brad. ÒJust wash quickly, because we
have to catch a boat!Ó I said excitedly. Then I turned and ran upstairs. As
I ran I felt a twinge of jealousy, leaving my aunt all alone downstairs
with my guy. But I was too zipped up about getting to go to the party to
worry about it.
During my bath, I slipped out of the tub. My curiosity about leaving
my aunt downstairs with Brad had grown stronger. And, more importantly,
IÕd just figured out a way to see his nude body as he showered. I ran wet-
footed through the hall, then into my auntÕs bedroom. I leaned out of one
of her windows. I could almost see him, showering down below, in an
alcove cut into one of the walls of the house. I ran to another window. I
leaned out again. There he was! He was utterly naked now, lathering his
dick and balls with soap, the rest of the soap either washed off him
already or yet to be applied. Long, shooting streams of water rushed down
from the shower head. I knew it only gave cold water, not warm, and I
marvelled at how he braved the stream of water with his bare body. I
gazed at him more closely and saw that his hair on his head was still dry.
Was he just getting into the shower, just now? IÕd already been in my
bath for fifteen minutes! What could he have been doing all this time?
Suddenly, I saw my aunt. She was dressed as perfectly as before, but
there was something in her hand. She waved it, and for a moment I
thought she was waving at me, and I drew back from my perch at the
window. Then I realized she was waving it at BradÕs behind.
ÒYou wouldnÕt,Ó I heard Brad say. He looked back over his shoulder at
her. His hands frisked his cock and balls more quickly. I watched as his
wonderful cock grew even longer in his hands. It stretched out like some
obscene banana from between his clenching fingers, sticking out a good
ten inches from the flatness of his belly.
My aunt swept her hand outward, holding what appeared to be a stick.
As it struck Brad on his naked behind I realized it was a riding crop!
ÒOuch!Ó Brad said. His hands worked over the long stem of his cock,
rubbing soap suds on it. The rest of him was without soap. I realized now
that he was just starting his shower.
ÒYou should not be dating a 13-year-old,Ó my aunt said.
ÒYou wouldnÕt have gotten to meet me if I hadnÕt,Ó Brad countered.
And it was true, because IÕd found him all by myself at a club weÕd visited,
while she was sitting and drinking with a woman.
ÒHurry up,Ó my aunt said. ÒWe spent too long kissing.Ó
ÒDonÕt hit me with that thing again. It hurts,Ó Brad said.
ÒWhere weÕre going, they may have one of these,Ó my aunt warned
him.
ÒIÕll worry about that when we get there,Ó Brad said.
ÒWeÕre going to have to stop at a pet store on the way to the harbor,Ó
my aunt said.
ÒA pet store?Ó my boyfriend asked. He began soaping his stomach.
It was flat and hard, covered with just a trace of hair that ran up from his
pubic bush to a thick cluster of hair on his chest.
ÒTo buy you a collar,Ó my aunt said. ÒYou and my niece.Ó
ÒThatÕs wild,Ó Brad said.
ÒIt could be a wild party,Ó my aunt cautioned.
ÒIÕll take my chances,Ó Brad said.
ÒIÕm a little frightened, going,Ó my aunt said. ÒA lot, actually. IÕm
glad my niece talked you into coming along. I wish she wasnÕt going,
though.Ó
ÒI know. SheÕs pretty young,Ó Brad agreed.
ÒNot too young for you to bonk her though, eh?Ó my aunt asked. She
swept her arm outward and stuck his behind again.
ÒOuch! I didnÕt bonk her,Ó Brad said. ÒWe were only necking. Like
you and I just did.Ó He reached back and rubbed his ass, where sheÕd
struck him.
ÒIÕm 19. SheÕs only 13,Ó my aunt said.
ÒI know what age she is,Ó Brad said. There was a slight growl to his
voice. ÒDonÕt hit my ass again. IÕve got to do this if you want me to
come.Ó
My aunt turned away. ÒDonÕt jerk off out here, okay?Ó she asked him,
glancing back over her shoulder.
ÒI wonÕt,Ó Brad said.
ÒI know younger guys sometimes cum unexpectedly,Ó my aunt smiled.
ÒIÕm not that young. IÕm older than you,Ó Brad said.
ÒPoint well taken,Ó my aunt answered.
ÒSay, could you bring me a towel?Ó Brad asked.
ÒOh,Ó my aunt said. ÒI suppose that will be needed.Ó She walked
away. I felt my fists balling up as I watched how her hips wiggled as she
left him, BradÕs eyes trailing after her, watching her ass. Even the long
dress she wore didnÕt hide itÕs allure. BradÕs cock was stiff as a board and
he put his hands to it and rubbed it some more, though it was already
covered with soap.
ÒDamn two-timer!Ó I said under my breath. But, hearing my aunt
come into the house downstairs, I rushed back to my bath, lest she
discover me getting the carpet wet in her bedroom.
We stood on the dock. I wore a pretty, long dress like my aunt, with
lace frills on it that made me seem modest. I wore a black leather dog
collar around my neck. It was brand new. WeÕd stopped at a pet store to
buy it, puzzling the lady behind the counter when she asked what breed of
dog we had, and my aunt, flustered already from the party we were going
to, answered, without thinking, that we didnÕt have a dog.
I watched the dark sky. The stars were out, but the moon had not yet
risen. I held a feathered mask over my face, under gay-colored lights
strung up along the dockway. A couple approached and my aunt lowered
her feathered mask and held it tightly by her side. Brad looked like Zorro,
tying a small black mask over his eyes. He did not bother to untie it as we
saw the couple approach. I was just 13 and kept my plumed mask up over
my face. Girls could get away with more than someone who was grown up,
like my aunt, could.
ÒHello,Ó my aunt said softly to the approaching couple. I could hear
a party going on in a boat parked on the other side of the dock. It sounded
like it was getting wild. I looked across the dock to see if I could see
anything. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary (though I noticed the boat
was rocking quite vigorously) I let my eyes wander up onto the shore.
There were shops there. Tourists and townsfolk could be seen strolling on
the promenade in front of the shops.
The couple stopped beside us. The woman was young, statuesque like
my aunt, perhaps no older than her, or just a few years older. It was hard
to tell in the dark. The man holding her arm was older, perhaps in his
mid-30s.
ÒAre you waiting for a boat?Ó the woman asked. She had blonde hair
that was swept up off her shoulders. It was long, but tied loosely with a
ribbon, to keep all the rest of her free of her hair. She wore a long,
sparkling cocktail dress that accentuated her curves. She had a short,
lambskin jacket pulled tight around her. It was unbuttoned in front. She
held it closed over her bosoms with one hand. In her other hand she held a
bouquet of roses. The jacket, though short-waisted, had a fashionably
high collar and long sleeves. The man was dressed in expensive slacks and
a silk shirt. He didnÕt seem to mind the cool breeze blowing in off the sea.
For my part, I was a little chilly. I wished weÕd brought jackets, like the
woman had.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt answered. She turned away, and gazed seaward, as if
afraid to say anything more to the couple.
ÒWe are waiting also,Ó the woman said. My aunt turned abruptly
back to her.
ÒYou are?Ó my aunt asked.
ÒYes. For the Silvers?Ó the woman asked.
ÒOh. Yes. Pauline and John Silver,Ó my aunt said. They both laughed.
There was a touch of anxiety in their voices as they laughed.
ÒWe are going to the same party,Ó the woman said.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt agreed. She introduced me, Brad. The woman
introduced herself and her husband. His name was Steve and hers was
Chrissy. They did not tell us their last names.
ÒWe did not know to bring masks,Ó the woman said.
ÒIt said-- it said to at the bottom of the slip. The very bottom,Ó my
aunt said. She lifted her mask, as if to put it over her face, but then
didnÕt. I kept mine over my eyes. Brad, seeing that the man was going to
the party but had no mask, nervously undid his own and shook the manÕs
hand.
ÒIt is strange,Ó the woman said, gazing out over the inward rolling
surf. You could hear the waves sluice past the big posts that held up the
dock under our feet. I liked listening to it. The posts were stiff,
implacable. But the softness of the rolling waves would eventually reduce
them to ruins.
ÒWhat?Ó my aunt asked.
ÒOn the slip,Ó the woman said. Chrissy, with her long blonde hair all
neatly piled up atop her head. ÒIt said that although we might be quite
intimate at the party, we must try our best to never meet again afterward.
After itÕs over.Ó
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said. She looked at the woman, Chrissy. At her trim
figure, like her own, at the prominence of her breasts. Then at the man
standing steadfastly beside her. ÒIt is so we have more... more license... to
do as we really please?Ó My aunt said. She ended her sentence in a
question, as if she werenÕt sure, or didnÕt want to be.
ÒYes. YouÕre very pretty,Ó the woman Chrissy said to my aunt.
ÒThank you,Ó my aunt said. Though it was dark, I could feel her
blush.
ÒWe shall have a nice party,Ó Chrissy said.
ÒI hope so,Ó my aunt agreed.
ÒThere it is!Ó I cried. I pointed out to see. A small yacht was
making its way in through the waves. We all turned and watched it. I
could hear the party on the boat docked behind us. A woman screamed. My
aunt turned, anxiously, looked behind her. Brad and Steve exchanged
nervous laughs.
The yacht drew in alongside the dock. A man and a woman sat in the
back of it. It was a small boat, with a little cabin that could hold only a
few things, perhaps a bed, nothing more. The man and the woman sat
exposed in the back of the yacht, under the stars, the man steering.
ÒRebecca!Ó I heard myself say. I gazed at the man and the woman in
alarm. They were both black. The woman had long, lovely European-style
hair, but her skin was as black as the manÕs who sat beside her. He had
peppercorn hair. She was young, like Rebecca and Chrissy, and I wondered
if she worked as a model. The man looked like heÕd stepped out of GQ.
ÒHello,Ó the woman called to us. She stood up. She picked up a coil
of rope and tossed it up onto the dock. Brad picked up the end of the rope
and wrapped it around one of the posts holding up the dock. He tied it with
expert hands. I wondered where heÕd learned that. ÒStep down,Ó the
woman urged us. ÒWatch your step.Ó
I went first. Rebecca held my hand as I stepped down into the boat.
I was a little unsteady and the black woman caught me as I gained a
foothold on the rocking edge of the boat. Rebecca was next, then Chrissy.
Her husband stepped down next, and Brad, untying us from the dock first,
then jumped down himself.
We settled onto cushions at the back of the boat. The cushions were
perched on a long wooden bench that was built into both sides of the boat.
I felt the sway of the boatÕs deck beneath my feet. If I leaned back, I
could dip my fingers in the water of the ocean.
ÒAre you cold?Ó the black woman with the long, wind-swept hair
hanging darkly down over her eyes asked me. She brushed her hair back.
She offered me a jacket. I took it and gratefully put it on. Rebecca
accepted one too. Brad declined, as did Steve. The boat turned and we
began cutting through the waves and heading toward the horizon.
The black man, John, did not wear a jacket. But Pauline did. She
wore it unbuttoned, showing a cocktail dress underneath. On her feet she
wore tennis shoes, with high heels. She had on small bobby socks and,
curiously, on one of her ankles there was a gold anklet. It was fitted with
small bells that shook and tinkled whenever she moved. I gazed at it,
wondering why she was wearing it, but I said nothing.
We arrived at their island about a half hour later. Brad jumped out
of the boat first, and tied it to their dock. The black woman complimented
him, telling him he was Òvery handy.Ó We all got out. We walked up a
gravel path, between overhanging trees, to a large house. As we mounted
the front steps to the house I was startled to see two young men standing
at the top of the steps. They were both white. They stood on either side
of the front door. Each one of them held a tall, flaming torch lamp in his
hand. Around the neck of each man, or perhaps boy would have been a
better term, for neither looked over 20, was an iron collar. Otherwise
each boy was naked, except for a very soft, V-shaped loin cloth, that hung
down over his penis. As we came up the steps each boyÕs cock rose in a
kind of lewd salute. Worse, at the base of each boyÕs feet, set in front of
him, was a stone pot. It was lit, like the torch lamp he held. The flames
in each pot blazed fiercely, illuminating each boyÕs thighs and, obscenely,
the now-risen penis each sported, which lifted his loin cloth, rendering it
useless. I looked with amazed eyes at the two rock-hard penises pointing
right at me, on either side of the door, as I came up the steps to the
SilversÕ house.
ÒYes, these are our slaves,Ó Pauline said. She said it very casually,
as a Southern gentlewoman might have, in the South, in America, before
the Civil War. Except she was black, and her ÔslavesÕ were white. She
lifted a hand and passed it caressingly over the cock of the male nearest
her. I saw then a most unusual sight. Fitted into the pee hole of the boy
standing there, was an emerald. I guessed it must have been mounted on a
(hopefully) blunt pin, which was stuck up into his pee hole. To keep the
jewel in place, a spring clamp, made of gold, fit underneath the head of his
cock. I realized, in a flash, that the whole thing must look like a pair of
big tweezers, one prong stuck up in the boyÕs penis, the other prong
clamping the underside of his cock. Where the two prongs met, the
emerald sat, looking cool and green at the tip of his hot, sweaty dong.
ÒMmff!Ó I said, suppressing a giggle. Brad and Steve gazed at the
boys with awe-struck eyes. My aunt and Chrissy looked equally startled.
We passed on into the house. I couldnÕt help looking back over my
shoulder as John Silver closed the door to his home. He smiled at me.
ÒYou will perhaps see more of them later,Ó he said to me in a big,
baritone voice. It made me shiver. At the same time I felt my nipples
perk up under my dress.
ÒLet us proceed straight to dinner,Ó Pauline said. She motioned
towards a room adjacent to the foyer. ÒOh, Brad,Ó she said, as my
boyfriend passed her. ÒWe need someone to serve at dinner. Would you
follow me, please?Ó
Brad gulped. He glanced at me. My eyes were filled with wonder, and
he looked to my aunt for instructions. She nodded, silently.
ÒOkay,Ó Brad said. Pauline smiled. She took his hand. She led him
away.
We seated ourselves around a table. It was made of hardwood,
covered with a linen tablecloth. Two candles stood upon it and John,
getting matches, lit them as carefully as any black servant of a Southern
family. Then he sat down at the head of the table.
Steve asked John a question. I donÕt remember it now, but it lead to
some inconclusive small talk. I put my plumed mask over my eyes. I liked
looking through it.
ÒWe didnÕt bring masks,Ó Chrissy said to John.
ÒItÕs alright,Ó John answered. ÒThere are fewer of us this evening.
We were expecting two more couples, but they cancelled.Ó
ÒOh,Ó Chrissy said.
Rebecca elbowed me. ÒPut your mask by your place,Ó she whispered.
ÒBut I like it!Ó I answered.
ÒNot now,Ó Rebecca said.
ÒOh, alright,Ó I replied. I put my plumed mask down next to the
silverware alongside my empty plate. ÒWhen are we going to eat?Ó
Rebecca ignored me. She gave a toss of her head and said to John,
ÒThis is a wonderful estate, sir.Ó
ÒThank you,Ó John said in his deep baritone. ÒYour companion... she is
quite young.Ó
ÒYes,Ó Rebecca answered. ÒShe insisted on coming.Ó
ÒI see,Ó John said. He cleared his throat. ÒI do not wish... there
could be a misunderstanding.Ó
ÒYou have lovely slaves,Ó Chrissy interrupted.
ÒYes,Ó John agreed. He looked at Chrissy and her husband. ÒYou have
both worn your collars?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Chrissy said. She drew back her jacket and I saw, now, in the
flickering of the candlelight, a black dogÕs collar around her neck. Steve
cleared his throat and folded down his shirt collar. I had thought heÕd had
it up because of the wind, but I saw now that it discreetly hid a dogÕs
collar around his thick neck. Chrissy, slim-boned and graceful, giggled as
she showed her collar.
ÒVery good,Ó John said. ÒAs you know I am master here, and always
looking for new slaves.Ó
ÒYou have a lovely wife,Ó Steve said to John.
ÒThank you,Ó John said.
Just then Pauline reappeared. To my shocked surprise, she was
bare-breasted. She had lovely big bosoms and they swayed in time to her
walk as she sashayed, with open sexiness, into the dining room. She was
as slim as a model. Her cocktail dress ringed her waist, and I wondered if
it might not slip down off her hips as she walked toward us. She seemed
unconcerned. There was amusement in her eyes.
ÒI just got Brad ready. HeÕll be out in a minute,Ó Pauline announced.
ÒBut how formal you all still look! I guess I forgot to ask for your jackets
in the foyer. Let me have them now.Ó Pauline walked up to Chrissy. The
gold anklet tinkled its bells as she approached the woman.
ÒOh, thank you,Ó Chrissy said to Pauline. She took off her jacket and
gave it to the woman. Then Pauline came around to my side of the table
and took my jacket, as well as RebeccaÕs. She put them on a small table
behind us. Then she returned to where I was sitting and leaned over the
back of my chair.
ÒI must unbutton your dress, dear,Ó Pauline said to me. I flinched. I
gawped at Rebecca, then, finding no solace there, on to John. He smiled
from the head of the table.
ÒYour breasts are young and ripe and I have not seen the breasts of a
13-year-old in some time,Ó John said.
ÒI must eat-- I must eat with my bosoms showing?Ó I asked. I felt
Pauline unbuttoning the back of my dress. Her own breasts, naked and
free, rubbed their nippled tips against my back. She pushed my long,
unpinned hair out of the way so she could undo me more easily.
A sound of unzipping came to my ears. As I stared at John, I realized
he was undoing his pants. My gaze darted to Steve. He was doing the
same. As I felt Pauline take apart my dress, both men produced their
penises under the table.
ÒHere we are somewhat more free than you might be at a dinner back
on shore,Ó Pauline whispered into my ear. She kissed it, my long hair, the
top of my head. I felt her hands push down my dress in back. Then they
found the back-clasp of my bra and undid that. She reached around in front
of me and lifted up the cups of my bra. My bosoms fell out of them. She
lifted my bra up and I was forced to lift my arms to accommodate her.
She worked my dress down to my waist. I was left sitting with my
breasts exposed. I noticed my nipples were stiff. Despite my
embarrassment, they showed themselves off with abandon, wiggling
whenever I moved. Under the table, I could sense the menÕs penises
pointing at me.
I felt like a slave girl, my breasts bared to the menÕs eyes as I sat at
the table. John, from his place at the head of the table, gazed at me
lasciviously, his dark eyes drinking in the innocent beauty of my 13-year-
old breasts. He had big, rippling muscles under his shirt and I wondered
with a sense of fearful excitement if this wasnÕt Ôpayback time.Õ HadnÕt
President Jefferson kept an underage black Mistress? DidnÕt he take her
to Paris with him? Now I was in France too, a white girl, feeling enslaved
to John, a black man sitting in the masterÕs place at the table. His wife
walked over to Rebecca. She undid the top of my auntÕs dress. She pulled
it down, showing off my auntÕs bosoms as if they were prize fruit bought
at a market. I glanced at my aunt, saw her nipples standing up as stiffly
as my own were.
ÒYou girls will both eat with the best of manners, or my husband
will be forced to flog you,Ó Pauline said to Rebecca and me. Then she
kissed Rebecca on the cheek. It was a soft, loving kiss, as if to check that
her husband could indeed use Rebecca in the manner just proposed. We
were negotiating, testing each other. My aunt nodded. I shivered, and
found myself, to my great surprise, nodding too!
ÒI may spill a little on my breasts. Could I have a bib?Ó I asked,
quickly, realizing IÕd nodded and trying to retract the permission IÕd just
given.
ÒA bib?Ó Pauline laughed. ÒDo you want a booster chair too?Ó I sat
low at the table, shorter than my aunt. I was only 13. I nodded.
ÒPlease,Ó I said.
ÒLet me see if we have a bib and a booster chair,Ó Pauline said. She
looked at her husband.
ÒIn the closet... I think,Ó John said. ÒI donÕt spend much time
remembering where we keep stuff for little kids.Ó
ÒSheÕs our baby slave,Ó Pauline said. She glanced back over her bare
shoulder at me. I liked the swing of her hips. She looked like a young
mother, striding purposefully to a closet just outside the room, to find me
a bib. I opened my mouth and a sound very much like an agreeable ÔgooÕ
came out. I felt saliva on my tongue. My nipples wiggled. I lifted up my
fingers and played with the tips of my tits.
ÒDonÕt,Ó Rebecca said to me in a scolding voice. She kept her hands
in her lap, trying to look poised and well-mannered, despite the nudity of
her tits.
ÒIÕm horny,Ó I said in a giggling voice.
ÒChloe, supper isnÕt the place to play with your tits,Ó John said in
his deep, baritone voice. ÒPut your hands in your lap like a good girl, or
IÕll be forced to spank you before we even start eating.Ó
I obeyed. The thought of JohnÕs big, calloused black hand splatting
across my bottom gave me an uneasy thrill, but it scared me too. I had no
doubt that a spanking from him would hurt tremendously. How could it
not? He was hugely strong, a mere tap would probably send pain rushing
up my backside. So why had I nodded when he threatened me with a
flogging? Was I somehow overwhelmed by the thought of me, a white girl,
being whipped by a big black man? Did I wish to receive, Jesus-like, the
sins of my ancestors across my back? Was it the thought I might be tied
first, perhaps to a flogging pole, my hands aloft, my shivering bottom
exposed and forced to present itself, as John measured out the lash in his
hands and considered how much of it to give me?
Yes! That was it! It was not the actual stroke of the lash that
mesmerized me, but the loving knots that would have to be used to keep
me in place. Their binding, their biting into my skin. And the
consideration, the thoughtfulness John would have to use, in deciding how
to deal with me. I was young, fragile. He himself had admitted I was very
young to play these games. Only 13. He might simply whip an older girl,
like my aunt, but with me he would have to be very careful. But still, it
was silly, wasnÕt it, to tease him to flog me while, at the same time, I
feared being spanked? Perhaps it was the extra distance between us that
would be entailed in a flogging that made me want it. He would have to
stand back from me. He would be forced to admire me as one admires a
statue. I would be fixed, tied, made to pose, like artwork. I would be
living art, and there would be no connection between us, once I was tied,
except through the flicks of the lash. That was it, I realized. It was the
lash, and how it would be his only way of expressing himself to me. With
a spanking one person was hard over the otherÕs knee. But in a whipping he
would have to stand back. He would have time to admire me and there
would be no distractions, once I was prepared for him. There would just
be the slow, intimate, sensuous cracking of the slender whip between us.
I would not be pressed down over his lap. I would be, relatively speaking,
far away. I would be chaste. I would wait and receive only those
touchings he explicitly wished to bestow upon me. And I would receive
them only through the medium of leather.
I felt a shiver run involuntarily through me. It made me wiggle in
my seat. I forced such lurid thoughts from my mind. Good God! How could
I think of such a thing-- to be whipped, by a black man? I glanced toward
the head of the table and was delighted to see that Paul was distracted by
the sight of my auntÕs large, slumbrous breasts, with their generous
nipples that were sticking out lustily from the ends of her bosoms,
despite her obvious desire to remain as neat and quiet and unobtrusive at
the table as possible. My own breasts were smaller, higher, and with
smaller nipples, because I was 6-years younger than she. I wondered what
mine would look like when I was a college girl, like she was. Unthinkingly
I lifted my hands. I covered my breasts and blushed. How silly, to be
sitting at a fine dinner table like this, with lit candles, my bosoms bared
to the world!
ÒNo. You must not,Ó a female voice said. It was Pauline. She was
walking back from the closet now, carrying a booster seat for me. I
watched her approach. Her bosoms were perfect and round and red-
nippled. She arrived by my chair and bade me to stand. I did. She placed
the booster seat on my chair. It was made of plastic. ÒPush down your
dress,Ó she said. ÒI want your bare bottom on the booster seat, just like
it might be if you were a real baby. But donÕt poop on it. YouÕre a toilet-
trained baby, okay?Ó Pauline said.
ÒI would never poop at the dinner table,Ó I said. My voice sounded
indignant, far away. I couldnÕt believe I was letting a booster seat be put
on my chair. Sure, the table was a little high for me, but I wasnÕt 4-
years-old anymore! Nonetheless, I hoisted myself back up into my chair.
Strangely, when I had plopped myself onto the extra height of the booster
chair, the table seemed just right. A little far down, maybe, but not that
far.
ÒGet one for Rebecca,Ó John ordered from the front of the table.
ÒWhat? I donÕt need one,Ó my aunt declared.
ÒIt will make her be too far from the food,Ó Pauline told her husband.
He laughed.
ÒYou mean she might spill some, trying to bring the food all the way
up to her mouth?Ó Paul laughed. I heard Steve give a smirking laugh.
ÒGood,Ó Paul said. ÒIt will help her practise her manners to have to bring
her food farther to her lips.Ó
ÒWell,Ó Pauline said, tying a bib around my neck. It was a real
babyÕs bib. It was too short for me. It had a picture of Tweety Bird on it
and it failed to cover my breasts at all, leaving them to hang freely under
the bibÕs tail. ÒIf you want to go that far, why donÕt you go all the way?
Hmmm? IÕm fairly hungry, myself. But if youÕre planning to make dinner
into a spectacle...Ó
Just then my boyfriend Brad walked into the room. He was carrying
a tray, like a servant. He was spectacularly and completely naked. IÕd
never seen him that way before and my eyes bulged at his body. Where his
trim swimsuit usually stretched over his hips, there was nothing. Just
his white skin, contrasting nicely with the rest of him, his belly and
thighs, which were tanned. In the center of the white space was his hairy,
manly bush. Sticking out from it, like a big sausage on display, was his
lovely big ten-inch penis. As he approached us I saw that there was
something glittering along the length of his penis. It seemed to be some
kind of decoration. His gait had an awkwardness to it, as if heÕd sat on
something disagreeable. Something that might still be poking into his
bottom.
ÒSir, IÕve brought the appetizers,Ó Paul said to John. He presented
John with a tray full of condoms and lubricant, and edible oils. In addition
to those, I saw three small glasses. Each was filled with water and,
straining, I saw three small pills set out next to each glass.
John turned and looked at my aunt.
ÒHave you taken your birth control for this evening, Rebecca?Ó he
asked. ÒBrad has brought you a pill if you havenÕt.Ó Rebecca blushed.
ÒI have, sir,Ó Rebecca answered.
ÒI have too,Ó Chrissy, from across the table, piped up.
ÒItÕs best to wait until Master addresses you before you speak to
him,Ó Pauline, JohnÕs husband, said softly.
ÒIÕm sorry,Ó Chrissy said. And with that one sentence I knew sheÕd
just given permission to be JohnÕs slave. Had I? My mind buzzed with my
dreads and my fantasies, but I could no longer remember if IÕd already
given permission, or not. Then, stupidly (for it was true, but it would be
taken in ways IÕd not intended), I spoke up.
ÒI didnÕt take any birth control,Ó I said. At once my hands flew to
my mouth. Why would I confess such a thing? Did I really want to be
fucked by big, bad John? John Silver? A little voice in my head buzzed,
ÔHow long is he, anyway? Could you really take all of him, if you had to?
Foolish girl! YouÕre only 13 and heÕs a big, fully grown, black man!ÕÓ
ÒAh, yes,Ó John said, casting his gaze upon me. It was imperious,
like some ultimate drug lord, or some African king from long ago, before
the white slave traders came and carried JohnÕs ancestors off to work on
a plantation in Louisiana. (IÕd learned that from some idle small talk heÕd
shared with Steve and Chrissy about his background.)
Brad walked over to me. He did not have to be told. Perhaps he was
eager to see me reduced to the sex object heÕd already become. As he
approached, I gazed in fright at his penis. It was unbelievable! There was
a gold ring fitted around the base of his cock. It was tight, pinching his
penis slightly. A second gold ring had been fitted just behind the
circumcised head of his penis. Between the two rings, trailing along his
cock, wrapped several times around it, was a very slim gold-link chain. It
looked rather like the snake you see on doctorÕs symbols. It left the skin
of much of his penis exposed, wrapped around the penis from front to back,
in several widely-spaced loops. It hugged his skin tightly. I could see,
despite the constriction, his excited pulse pumping along the length of his
shaft. The head of his cock was bare and purplish in color. It looked huge,
with the big ring clamped just behind it.
ÒOh, John!Ó I gasped. Rebecca turned as he passed behind her and
gazed at his ass. She let out a small cry. As I was soon to discover, a
golden dildo had been wedged up his behind. There was a pair of gold
chains running back from the base of his cock, past his balls, to his anus.
There the chains attached to a ring. The ring had been wedged between the
cheeks of his bottom. Then, ruthlessly, a flanged dildo had been forced up
into his virgin ass, within the gold ring, to keep the whole wicked
apparatus firmly in place, from the end of his penis all the way back to his
butthole.
I marvelled at my boyfriendÕs decorated cock as he held out the tray
with the birth-control items on it. His whole penis seemed to sparkle.
Hanging underneath, between his legs, were his hairy testicles. They were
drawn up tightly. He was eager, I saw, to spend. Carefully I reached for
the pill and glass of water he offered me. Despite his disability, having
his penis encased in gold chains and a cock up his ass, Brad gazed at me
with fiery eyes.
ÒUse both hands, darling. YouÕre a baby slave,Ó Pauline said to me as
I took the glass of water from the tray. I obeyed. I put the birth control
pill on my tongue and then, holding the water glass with both hands, I
drank from it. I swallowed the pill.
Brad looked at me. My dress had been pulled down to my knees and I
sat bare-assed on the plastic booster seat. He gazed at my bush, at the
flatness of my belly, at my exposed bosoms that wiggled seductively
whenever I moved. On an impulse I picked up my plumed mask from beside
my plate and put it over my face. I looked at him through the eye slits of
the mask. My gaze drifted down to his cock. I saw that, in addition to
wearing ornamentation around his cock, his feet were shod with gold-
slippers. They buckled around his ankles, had flat soles, and left his toes
exposed. He looked like a boy from ancient Greece, ÔclothedÕ to serve at a
very obscene dinner.
I wedged my hand between my legs. I gasped. I knew I should not,
but I diddled my fingers in my slit.
ÒChloe! Bad girl!Ó Pauline shouted. She rushed to my side and drew
my fingers, wet with my dew, from between my legs. She put them to her
lips. She licked them clean. Brad, watching us, his cock tightly bound
with rings and chains, gave a gagging sob. Even as she continued to clean
my fingers with my mouth, Pauline gazed down at my boyfriendÕs dick.
ÒDonÕt cum, dear,Ó Pauline said to Brad. ÒAnd donÕt play with
yourself.Ó
ÒGod! I can barely hold back!Ó Brad shouted. He was holding the tray
of birth control items with both hands, but his hands were unsteady now,
causing the water in the two remaining glasses to shiver. ÒYou both look
like something straight out of Penthouse!Ó
I flushed. Imagine! Did I really look like a Penthouse Pet? Well, it
would have to be Penthouse Junior, in my case. ÔThe Little Sisters of the
Penthouse Pets, caught with their panties down.Õ I didnÕt know if grown
men would want to look at me, but I knew there were boys in my grade
who would! What a riot that would be, causing all the boys in gym class to
jerk off in the locker room, while I was sitting primly in math class,
learning algebra. You could hear the boys at my school shouting and
yelling every day when they showered, after their sports. Well, IÕd give
them something to shout about!
I gave a small gulp as I emerged from my Penthouse fantasy to find
John and Steve and Brad all staring at me. They were all older than me.
Yet IÕd managed to capture their eyes, despite the big-bosomed beauty of
my aunt, sitting right next to me. Paul licked his lips. He seemed to be
doing something with one of his hands, under the dinner table.
ÒOh!Ó Rebecca said. I looked at her, but she was just sitting there,
her hands in her lap, not playing in her slit (her dress was still bunched
around her waist), but nonetheless overwhelmed by the slow eroticism of
our Ôdinner.Õ Steve, sitting across the table from her with his wife,
reached for her dress and tore it off her shoulders. Chrissy gave a cry of
alarm but, apart from a defensive fluttering of her hands, she did not
resist. Her own bosoms revealed themselves. They were big and heavy and
she murmured something about wanting to have a baby, so she could
breast-feed it.
ÒHow about a black baby?Ó John asked from the head of the table.
ÒIÕm not prejudiced,Ó Chrissy said in reply. Her eyes seemed to
smile at her husband.
ÒGod, thatÕs awful,Ó Steve said.
ÒWhatÕs awful, white boy?Ó John bellowed.
ÒIÕm-- IÕm turned on by it,Ó Steve said. ÒThe thought of you fucking
my wife. Of making her pregnant. Thank God she took her pill already.Ó
ÒA woman must take a pill every day,Ó John replied. ÒYou wonÕt be
here for just one night.Ó
ÒI know,Ó Steve said. ÒBut if you fuck my wife, IÕm going to fuck
yours. I want you to know that, man to man. And if my wife is forced to
go without birth control, IÕll see that yours is too.Ó
ÒThat would be wild, having each otherÕs babies,Ó Pauline said,
lifting my fingers from her lips. She shivered. She looked at her husband.
ÒI rather like that. ItÕs so crazy it would be fun, donÕt you think, dear?Ó
ÒI would give 40 lashes across the naked ass of any man who fucked
my wife,Ó John said.
ÒGod damn!Ó Steve said. He leapt up from his seat. His cock, large
and stiff, hung over the table.
ÒWhat?Ó John asked. ÒDid I tell you that you could stand up, white
boy?Ó
ÒI canÕt believe this,Ó Steve said. He looked at his wife. ÒHoney, I
think IÕm going nuts. This asshole just said heÕd whip my butt, and IÕm not
offended.Ó
ÒAsshole?Ó John shouted. Chrissy took SteveÕs hand.
ÒSir, please excuse my husband,Ó Chrissy said. ÒHeÕs impolite
sometimes.Ó
ÒNo offenses can be excused, but they can be paid for in a number of
ways,Ó John said from the head of the table. ÒSteve, you will remove your
pants, and walk around with a bare ass from now on. Have your wife tuck
up your shirt, so that your naked butt can be seen. You will be my slave
boy, and do my bidding. Not for my sake, but for the sake of my wife, who
adores white menÕs bare white asses. And for the sake of your wife, too,
who IÕm sure married you for more than tax-deductible reasons.Ó
Steve grabbed at the belt buckle holding up his unzipped pants.
ÒYou have a beautiful wife,Ó Steve said to John. He undid his belt,
and the snap at the front of his pants holding them together. ÒI want you
to know IÕm dying to fuck her, just like Plantation owners in Louisiana
long ago took young black girls to their beds and, perhaps in the earshot of
their fathers, deflowered them.Ó John nodded, silently. Then he said:
ÒYou have a big penis, servant boy. You will make me laugh as you
walk around with it sticking out in front of you.Ó
ÒShow me yours,Ó Steve said, husking his pants down his legs as his
wife took a pin from her hair and did up his shirt in back, so that his bare
haunches could be seen.
John rose up at the head of the table. His own pants were already
unzipped. His penis displayed itself across his plate. A gasp went up from
myself, from the others as well. JohnÕs penis was at least a foot long! A
big dollop of pre-cum drooled from the head of his cock and hung down
until, at last, before our staring eyes, it connected with the surface of his
clean china plate.
ÒYou are well endowed, sir,Ó Chrissy managed to say, staring at the
equipment of the man her husband had already agreed could fuck her.
ÒMy wife is no slouch when it comes to finding the biggest and best
sausage in town,Ó John said. Pauline, standing next to me, shivered with
pleasure.
ÒOh, letÕs try out the dental chair!Ó Pauline gushed to her husband.
ÒAll right,Ó John said. He gazed at all of us, taking in our nude
bodies with a sweep of his mysterious dark eyes. ÒWeÕve installed a new
item for the pleasure of our guests,Ó he said. ÒCome with me.Ó He turned.
He did not bother to zip up his pants, or to take them off, but walked with
his big member hanging lewdly out of them. It dripped big gobs of pre-cum
as he walked from the dining room. His penis was so stiff that his
walking caused his penis to bounce, and the pre-cum to fly up and away
from his body. He seemed not to mind the mess he was making. Nor did
his wife, who pulled me from my booster chair and urged me, and Rebecca
also, to follow her husband. Steve and Chrissy and Brad came along too.
We went into another room, a library, but none of us bothered to stop
and gaze at the leather-bound books it held. Beyond that was another
room. It was small. In the center of the room was a dental chair. Holding
my dress up around my thighs, I gazed at it with wide eyes. A dental
chair? What were we supposed to do in here?
ÒRebecca, you will please remove your dress and get in the chair,Ó
Pauline said to my aunt.
ÒMe? Why me?Ó my aunt asked. She clutched at the dress around her
waist like a child hanging on to a security blanket.
ÒDo as she says, slave girl,Ó John boomed. My aunt gaped at John, at
Rebecca, but found only their Will staring back at her, and relented and
pushed down her dress. She wasnÕt wearing any panties underneath. WeÕd
worn dresses that were too tight for that. She exposed her bush to us and
we gazed at her lovely legs. She stepped out of her dress.
ÒLeave it on the floor,Ó John told her. ÒYou wonÕt be needing it
here.Ó
ÒBut if I--Ó Rebecca began.
ÒDo as my husband tells you,Ó Pauline interrupted. She was standing
next to me and she ran her hand down my nude back. ÒDrop your own dress,
dear,Ó she said in a soft voice. There was an air of command in it,
however, and I let my dress slip from my fingers. Awkwardly I stepped
out of it, and stood waiting for her to tell me what to do next. Chrissy
pushed her dress down her legs and, holding her husbandÕs hand, stepped
out of it. I found IÕd carried my plumed mask with me, into this small,
claustrophobic room, and I lifted the mask to my eyes. I peered through it
at the others. Nobody seemed to mind. With my free hand I petted my
pussy, running my fingers through the short hairs there. But I did not seek
out my clitoris and touch it.
ÒOh, God,Ó Steve said. He watched as Rebecca, naked as a jaybird,
lay down in the dental chair. My aunt spread her legs, giving us all a view
of her lovely-lipped pussy. She rested her arms nervously on the armrests
of the chair. Pauline flicked on a big examination light above her. She
directed it at my auntÕs face.
ÒOpen your mouth,Ó Pauline said to my aunt. She slipped on rubber
gloves as she spoke. My aunt obeyed, not knowing what to expect, her
whole body trembling and her pussy, I had no doubt, moistening freely as
she felt the eyes of all the men in the room looking up into her slot. ÒYes,
keep your legs apart. Legs apart and mouth open,Ó Pauline said to my aunt.
She pressed a button and the dental chair went back. My auntÕs eyes
widened. Her breasts wobbled. Her eyes widened even more when the
chair, seemingly already as far back as it could go, tilted back even more,
until my auntÕs face was lower down than her heels.
Pauline, wearing rubber gloves now, took a syringe from a cabinet
sitting next to the dental chair. She poked the syringe into a small glass
container. She filled the syringe with fluid from the container.
ÒThis is anesthetic,Ó Pauline said. ÒIt wonÕt help your bottom if
youÕre whipped, but it will make your mouth feel all funny.Ó
ÒWhy?Ó my aunt asked, gazing up at Pauline as the woman passed the
syringe across my auntÕs tits. They were still wiggling slightly, like big
mounds of jello, from the movement of the chair. Her nipples were risen,
little peaks of excitement that now were dangerously close to the sharp-
pointed syringe being held above her. Pauline picked up a plastic mouth-
examining tool and put it to my auntÕs parted lips.
ÒYes, let me see into your mouth,Ó Pauline said. ÒIÕve studied how to
be a dental assistant, so you can be sure I know what IÕm doing. Not, of
course, to actually be a dental assistant. My husband and I donÕt need the
money. But to know how to do this properly. YouÕll have a lot more fun
eating your dinner with your mouth turned to jelly by the anesthesia.Ó
ÒWhat?Ó my aunt asked. Pauline brought the needle-tipped syringe
down to her lips. Carefully she inserted it into her open mouth. My auntÕs
eyes gaped, then she suddenly shut them, fearing the needle might stab her
face in an even worse place than her mouth. Pauline was gloved, cool,
confident. She urged Rebecca to part her lips more widely. The lamp
blazed down.
ÒIÕm going to inject some anesthesia into your mouth now,Ó Pauline
told my aunt. ÒIt wonÕt hurt any more than when youÕve gone to the
dentist, to get a cavity filled. YouÕll just feel a little poke. Then another,
and weÕll be done. Then we can go back and have our dinner. IÕm
famished!Ó She glanced up at her husband.
ÒIt should be interesting, getting a blow job from her, with her
mouth feeling all wobbly,Ó John said to Steve.
ÒYeah,Ó Steve agreed. He thrust forward his hips, showing us all his
big, randy penis. I donÕt think he was trying to make a spectacle of his
organ, he was just desperate, thatÕs all. I think even us girls were
desperate, teased to distraction by John and Pauline, to the point where
we were even willing to play decadent dental games.
ÒOuch!Ó my aunt exclaimed.
ÒCareful, IÕm injecting you now,Ó Pauline said. ÒIsnÕt it fun knowing
this isnÕt part of an extraction, but just for play? DonÕt worry. I know
where to shoot the anesthesia so no harm will be done at all. You might
have a little trouble finding your mouth when youÕre sitting up in your
booster chair, trying to eat your food without getting messy, though.
Would you like me to get you a bib, like Chloe is wearing?Ó My aunt
nodded. ÒOne more stick, now, farther back. Open your mouth nice and
wide, dear,Ó Pauline said. Then she laughed, a carefree laugh, as if she
didnÕt really care all that much if she hurt my aunt or not, and her laugh
made me shiver. ÒI should stick you in your tits,Ó Pauline said. My auntÕs
mouth gaped in alarm. Then she said, ÒOooch!Ó in a half-gagged sort of
way. The needle poked her again, in her mouth.
ÒThere, get up!Ó Pauline said. There was a touch of jealousy in her
voice as she raised the chair so my aunt could stand. As soon as the chair
was up my aunt leapt from it. I watched her big, lovely bottom as she
sprang up from the chair. Her cheeks were huddled together, as if she
feared getting a stab from PaulineÕs needle up her ass as she got out of
the chair. She put her hands to her mouth, feeling it. We all stared at her.
ÒChloe, youÕre next,Ó Pauline said to me.
ÒOh, I donÕt want to!Ó I protested.
ÒGet in the chair,Ó Steve said to his wife.
ÒNo, please!Ó Chrissy said. But she moved toward the chair,
hesitantly. With her eyes fixed on Pauline, looking for reassurance, she
took hold of the chair. Pauline smiled and tossed back her black hair.
ÒI feel so randy,Ó Pauline confessed. She pushed down her cocktail
dress, baring her pussy. She thrust her hips forward. Daringly, she took
the needle and inserted it between her legs. I gasped. But Pauline didnÕt
stick herself with it, though she must have come quite close to doing that.
Instead, she wet the needle by rubbing it back and forth against her twat.
Then she lifted it up again, showing it to Chrissy. It was covered with her
dew and she intended, now, to put it into ChrissyÕs mouth. Chrissy sighed
and collapsed into the dental chair. Lustily she spread herself out on it,
opening her legs and grabbing hold of the chair arms.
ÒDo me, if you must!Ó Chrissy said. She gazed over at her husband as
Pauline dropped the head of the chair. Soon Chrissy was lying with her
head below the level of her heels. Pauline took hold of her face with a
gloved hand and twisted her head so that she was forced to look up at the
big, blazing lamp overhead. Then she urged Chrissy to open her lips.
ÒAhhhhh,Ó Chrissy breathed, letting Pauline took into her mouth.
ÒVery good. You are a model pupil. We had to do this to each other at
dental school, for practise,Ó Pauline said. ÒWould you like to study
dentistry, Chrissy?Ó Chrissy wagged her head Ôno.Õ
ÒToo bad, because IÕm going to stick you anyway,Ó Pauline said. And
she did. Two pokes, in the mouth, leaving Chrissy with a rubbery mouth
that would prove hard to feed at dinner, without spilling food all down the
front of herself. Pauline told Chrissy sheÕd give her a bib, just like I
wore, but we all knew it would be too short to cover her tits, and leave
her with a messy mouth and breasts by the time dinner was over.
We returned to the dining room. John passed out black bow ties to
the men, which they tied around their necks. It was to be a formal dinner.
Pauline got booster seats for all the females but herself and made
Rebecca and Chrissy and me sit in them. We all wore bibs, all except
Pauline. Mine had Tweety on it and RebeccaÕs had Road Runner. ChrissyÕs
bib displayed Sylvester the Cat.
ÒNow Brad here will serve us our meal,Ó Pauline said, taking a seat
beside me. Suddenly she told me to get out of my booster chair.
ÒWhy?Ó I asked.
ÒI just thought of something, thatÕs why,Ó Pauline said, grinning
mischievously.
ÒWhat?Ó I asked, more curious than ever, and feeling suddenly safe,
perched up high in my booster chair. My mouth didnÕt feel all funny like
Rebecca and ChrissyÕs mouths did. I was sure I could eat my dinner
without making a mess of myself.
ÒYouÕre going to sit in my lap, and IÕm going to feed you your dinner,Ó
Pauline told me.
ÒYouÕll-- youÕll spill it all over me!Ó I protested.
ÒReally?Ó Pauline asked. Her eyes glowed.
ÒOh, I donÕt want to be whipped for being messy at dinner!Ó I cried.
Pauline took me by my arm and yanked me down from my booster chair.
She made me sit in my lap. She straightened my bib. She kissed my cheek.
ÒItÕs a bit late to worry about that,Ó Pauline said. ÒDonÕt you
think?Ó She kissed my cheek again.
ÒYes, mommy,Ó I said quietly. Her breasts budded against my back.
She dropped her hands to my tits and squeezed both of them playfully,
savoring their ripe fullness in her hands. She passed her thumbs
tantalizingly over my bare nipples. ÒBut I still donÕt want to be whipped
by your husband,Ó I added.
ÒOh, neither do I,Ó Pauline said. There was a hint of gloating in her
voice. ÒIt would be *so* awful, wouldnÕt it, to have a long, vicious whip
biting into the soft tender flesh of baby slaveÕs bottom?Ó
ÒYes!Ó I agreed.
ÒSuck my finger, then, and try not to think about it. Dinner will be
out in a minute. BradÕs bringing it now,Ó Pauline said. Greedily, impelled
by lust or desire or what I donÕt know, I let Pauline stick her finger into
my mouth. I sucked hard upon it. I watched as Brad, with his gold-
trimmed penis, served us our dinner.
My prediction proved correct. Pauline cut my dinner into small
pieces and served it to my lips with a spoon. I tried to help her guide the
spoon. She didnÕt like that. She told John to get a pair of handcuffs for
me. He did, and ordered Brad, my own boyfriend, to put them on me.
Pauline held me in her lap as Brad pulled my arms back behind me and
snapped on the handcuffs. Imagine, my own brand-new boyfriend, doing
that to me! I thought about running away but knew that was useless. John
and Steve and Brad were all big men. They were all hard as bones. They
were all desperate to cum, and would sooner kill their own fathers than
let a wet-slitted young female out of their sight. My age, at this stage in
the evening, was probably as much an invitation as a defense. They all
knew IÕd be very tight. They knew I was not entirely unwilling. I was
shivering with my own desire and wasnÕt sure I could trust myself to run
out the door if I got up. I might, instead, run like a bitch in heat to one of
the men, and plop myself down on his lap. That would put me straight
from the frying pan into the fire! Worst of all, I was out in the middle of
the sea on John and PaulineÕs own private island. It was too far to shore
for me to swim. Could I grab a boat? John, gazing at me from the head of
the table, spoke to Brad:
ÒBrad, I want you to take a break from serving us and go out back,Ó
John said. ÒI have three dogs. TheyÕre hungry too. I want you to serve
them their dinner. Then, while theyÕre feeding, unhook their chains. I let
them roam at night, to protect the island.Ó John glanced at me. ÒFrom
those who wish to enter, and those who wish to leave, without my
permission.Ó
ÒYes, sir,Ó Brad said. He was mesmerized by his predicament, his
penis all decorated with gold chains, and a dildo jammed intrusively into
his butthole. Pauline had done that to him. I donÕt think heÕd have let
anyone else do that to him. Not even me. But a beautiful, richly seductive
woman like her could do the most kinky thing she wished. I wondered
what it had been like, the two of them privately in the kitchen, she suiting
him up in his gold penis chains as he watched. He turned to walk from the
room. I gazed curiously at the flanged dildo rammed up between his steel-
hard cheeks. How had Pauline managed it, getting that dildo up such a
perfect, manly ass? He had a small, rock-hard butt, from years spent
lifting weights. My eyes drifted lower. I watched his heavy balls dangling
between his thighs. I felt a rush of desire well up in my tummy. He looked
so full of cum! Dangerously full, as if his balls might pop if someone
didnÕt take hold of him and pump some of the sperm out of them.
ÒOh, Brad,Ó John said. ÒItÕs very important that you follow my
directions explicitly. The dogÕs clean bowls are in the kitchen, under the
sink. Fill them in the kitchen with their food. Then, youÕll see a stick, by
the back door, that you can use to slide their food out to them, after you
place it down on the cement porch outside the door. DonÕt go near them to
unhook them until theyÕre eating. Otherwise, theyÕll bite at you.Ó He
looked at BradÕs penis. ÒAnd with your luck, you can guess where theyÕd
bite you. Be careful. Unchain them while theyÕre busy eating. Then donÕt
delay, getting back into the house. Otherwise youÕll feed them a nice big
sausage along with their Alpo.Ó
Brad shivered, listening to John. But he was young, and the dare of
trying to feed dogs with his dick sticking out in front of him, all hard and
bloated with his erotic desires, somehow appealed to him.
ÒOh, God!Ó Chrissy said, listening. She flushed. ÒMay my husband
feed your dogs their next meal?Ó she asked.
ÒWhat?!Ó Steve said.
ÒYes, dear! I want to see it!Ó Chrissy said. ÒThatÕs why we came
here, didnÕt we? To explore strange, erotic things like that? With our
bodies? I want to see you feed the dogs next time, with your penis
hanging off you, all stiff and erect, and your big balls dangling down,
tempting those dogs!Ó
Oh, I was doomed, I told myself. Loved and teased but doomed! They
were all nuts with their own desire and I was one of them too, lusting
between my legs at hearing how my boyfriend would have to feed those
dogs!
ÒBrad, if you open the curtain along the side of the room, we can all
watch you as you feed my dogs,Ó John told my boyfriend. ÒTheyÕre housed
right out there.Ó
ÒYes,Ó Brad said. He went to the wall, his dick wiggling stiffly. He
drew back a pair of curtains and we gazed out at three sleek, well-fed
dogs sitting around a single dog house. They growled at us as the curtain
was drawn back, but we couldnÕt hear it, for the glass of the window was
thick.
ÒNow go to the kitchen and get their food,Ó John told Brad. ÒThen get
the stick by the back door and slide it out to them.Ó
ÒYes, Master,Ó Brad said. There was a jauntiness to his gait as he
left us, jangling his full balls between his legs and enjoying the lewd
swinging motion of his penis. I stared at his behind as he departed from
the room. I hoped he didnÕt come back with any bite marks in it.
Shivering with wantonness, I accepted PaulineÕs feeding of me
without resistance. We watched Brad feed the dogs. He didnÕt lose any of
his equipment. Did we wish that he might? I donÕt know. We were all
filled with lust to the point of craziness. None of the dogs left teeth
marks in his ass. Brad came back inside and began once more serving us
the courses of our dinner. He refilled our glasses as we drank down heady
gulps of wine. Pauline made me drink grape juice, so I wouldnÕt get drunk
and find myself well-fucked in the morning and claim complete innocence
of my fate. She whispered to me that she wanted me to feel all 12 inches
of her husbandÕs penis.
ÒEvery inch. Every fucking inch,Ó Pauline told me. ÒAnd I want you
to remember it.Ó
ÒOh, IÕm scared of your husbandÕs big penis!Ó I said. I spoke softly,
so John wouldnÕt hear me. I knew heÕd only be inspired by my misgivings.
Pauline patted my bare tummy with her hand.
ÒYes, youÕll be full of more than just dinner before the nightÕs over,Ó
she laughed. She continued feeding me, using a spoon. Now and then, on
purpose, she missed my mouth. She spilled food onto my bib, onto Tweety
Bird. She spilled it down over my stiff nippled tits. She even took a glass
of milk and dumped it (accidentally, she said) over my breasts, laughing as
the milk ran down my flat belly to accumulate in the hairs of my nest,
inbetween my thighs.
ÒOh well. A little extra white stuff between your legs wonÕt hurt, I
suppose,Ó Pauline said. ÒYouÕll be quite well coated with white stuff
down there by morning. All over you and even up inside you.Ó
ÒYouÕre wicked,Ó I told Pauline.
ÒI know I am,Ó Pauline answered. Her breasts bounced perkily
against my back. ÒAnd you know what?Ó she whispered, in a low, soft,
seductive voice. ÒThere will be white stuff all over your ass too. And up
inside, between your tight cheeks.Ó
ÒNo!Ó I cried. But I wiggled my bottom on her lap, as if inviting an
exploration. Fortunately, Pauline was a girl, and didnÕt have a penis. I
wondered if the squirming of my bottom against her thighs made her pussy
wet.
Rebecca fared no better, eating her dinner from the high perch of her
booster seat. Her hand trembled as she brought forkfuls of food up to her
anesthetized, rubbery lips. Try as she might, she often missed, and wound
up serving her food to her chin or her nose instead of her mouth. Her face
got all messy and food dripped liberally down her front, splattering her
breasts with sauce and speckling her belly. At first she sighed fretfully
at her predicament. As the meal progressed, and she became increasingly
messy down her front, she began laughing. By the time gooey ice cream
was served she and Chrissy were laughing. They were children again,
messy and wanton. I laughed too. I picked up a bean sprout left on the
table, spilled from my eating, and threw it at Brad as he approached to
pour me more juice. It hit his penis. He danced up on his heels, surprised.
John and Steve laughed. A moment later, with dinner over, we began
tossing food at each other. I grabbed handfuls of food from the serving
dishes that cluttered the table. Still sitting in PaulineÕs lap, I tossed food
at Rebecca. She retaliated. Chrissy, hoping perhaps to win some extra
punishment from John, threw a big handful of mashed potatoes at him. He
threw a bun back at her. Pauline picked up a wet handful of ice cream
from her ice cream dish and smooshed it into my face.
ÒThere,Ó Pauline said. ÒThat should fix you for starting a food
fight!Ó
John ordered us all to rise. Pauline pushed me off her lap. I stood,
unsteadily. My bosoms hung in front of me, wobbling like ripe gourds just
picked off the vine. My wrists were bound behind me with handcuffs. I
was suddenly very conscious of my bottom. IÕd been bad, and messy, and
now dinner was over and John could begin the discipline heÕd promised us
all. I shivered, feeling scared, but somehow wishing too to begin
whatever was due me, and get it over with. There was no escaping it, that
was for sure. I knew that.
ÒWell, white girls,Ó John said. He surveyed us all. He was standing
at the head of the table. His big penis was lined with veins. It stuck out
in front of him like a lewd advertisement for a porno film. It throbbed,
mightily. I looked away, frightened of it, but my eyes fell upon SteveÕs
penis, and it looked just as big and just as awful. When I looked away
from him, my eyes found themselves gazing at BradÕs dick! There was no
escape from all these penises! They were hungry, and I was handcuffed,
with a wet, tight hole between my legs where they could give themselves
relief. I felt my knees tremble. I leaned back against Pauline.
ÒSave me!Ó I said to her.
ÒFrom what?Ó she asked.
ÒFrom all these big, bad penises!Ó I cried.
ÒAnd the whip too?Ó Pauline said, mock-humor in her voice.
ÒOook! Especially that!Ó I said. I felt girlish. Pauline, standing
behind me, hugged me possessively.
ÒSuch a sweet dear,Ó she said. ÒIÕm afraid youÕre asking the wrong
person, though. IÕve a mind to see you flogged first, and then forced to
entertain all three penises at once!Ó
ÒNo!Ó I cried.
30
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